[rodthegreatest]

Я делаю штуку.
Выходит тупо
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A quiet, grey morning. I stiffly shut my eyes.
The time in which I play alone lapses endlessly.

If the road I chase was a gift then take it away.

I yell so the empty space echoes.
I listen intently for your sounds. I want them to engulf me.

Thoughts pile up like pale snow.

I sail accross the surface of the water, the morning mist pours in.
I am disillusioned right down to the bottom of my consciousness. A melodic wavering.

If I’m going to sing then I will shout until it the bowstring rings.
I approach the distant horizon.

If that’s to be expected then I will bring your smile along,
to those timbres.
The answer puzzles you so much that the bow glitters.

I desire extinction for that uncertainty.
If the sound made you lonely,
Try murmuring, ”play a tender lullaby to me”

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